Definitely Maybe
by YoursInBlood
Summary: Set a year before the events that occured on the island. Two boys stumble upon each other in a chance meeting and discover that they'll never be the same again. *SLASH warning in later chapters


**Title**: Definitely Maybe – Part One__

**Author: YoursInBlood (BL00DEDPhoenix@aol.com)**

**Series: _Meeting You_**

**Pairing: Soft traces of Jack + Simon**

**Warnings**: A bit of Slash, though it's really rather soft due to characters'  

ages

**Feedback**: Comments and critiques greatly appreciated 

**Disclaimer**: _Lord of the Flies_ and all of its characters, locations, and events do not belong to me. They're property of Sir William Golding, and I exercise no claims over any of his works. I'm merely borrowing for the time being, and promise to return everything [fairly] unharmed at the end of the day.

**Author's Note**: Recently finished reading _Lord of the Flies_ and realized that if I didn't write some fiction based on the characters, Slash or no Slash, I wouldn't be able to sleep at night. So here's my first shot. It happens somewhere around a year before the events of the island. Keep in mind this isn't the pairing of my choice, but no other two characters fit the theme quite the same way. Also, as a side note, not much is known about the boys' pasts so I had to take some creative liberty. Enjoy~!

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** Definitely Maybe  
  
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"What are you doing out here?"

He hadn't meant for the words to sound quite so suspicious, or for his tone to convey such an obvious sense of territoriality, but he hadn't been aware that anybody else knew about this spot and the sudden knowledge was unnerving.

The reply was soft and held no tone of offense taken, though the words were faintly muffled as though a hand were held up to the other's mouth.

"I come here every once in a while. It's a nice place to just come and think. I didn't know anybody else knew about this spot. Sorry."

The stranger in question made a movement as though to stand up, but the faint trickle of soft, pinkish red seeping from between his index and middle fingers caught both the interest and the concern of the other boy.

"Hey, are you all right? There's a bit of blood on your – "

He couldn't see the wry smile on the other's face because of the protective hand held securely over his nose and mouth, but he could hear it in the boy's voice as he replied with forced humour.

"Don't worry about it. It kind of happens all the time. Just a bit of a nosebleed is all. I'll be fine."

He made another movement as though to get up and leave, face a bit flustered beneath his pink stained hand, but the other boy settled himself down onto the crisp grass beside him and looked out across the glimmering water of the creek.

"I must've been at least five when I found this place," he mused thoughtfully, almost as though he were addressing himself and not his companion, "It's even prettier now than it was back then."

"You're Jack, right?" The other boy's voice shook a little as he sniffed, seeming almost timid to sound out the single syllable of his acquaintance's name.

The recently named Jack pulled his knees up slightly as he stretched his arms backwards, blades of soft, sun-kissed grass seeping through his fingers easily.

"That's right," he replied with a hint of that old suspicion surfacing faintly,

"But they don't call me 'Jack'. They call me 'Merridew'. I'm older than most of the other boys around here, you know."

The still unnamed boy nodded a little, experimentally lifting his hand away from his nose and quickly replacing it with the tissue he had been tightly gripping in the opposite hand.

Jack turned his head sideways a little and observed him for a moment through clear, fascinated blue eyes.

"How long does it take for the bleeding to stop?"

His only response was a quick headshake that sent strands of fine, dark hair whipping into the other boy's eyes and framing his face before he spoke.

"A little while. It's really not that bad."

Tiny lines of interest began to appear at the edges of Jack's clear eyes as he squinted them in observance.

"Do I know you?"

There was a note of stammering in the other boy's voice before he managed to find his words. "Not really. I mean, I'm not sure if you'd remember me."

"But you know me." It was more of a statement than a question judging by the information he had already been given, and the nod was quick and automatic.

"Everyone knows you. You're chapter chorister and head boy."

The half-smile pulling at the edge of Jack's mouth was that of arrogant pride, but was quickly replaced with that of amused interest.

"So you're from around here, then. I must know you if that's case, because all of the boys in these parts go to Dulwich. You go there too, don't you?"

The boy in question nodded his dark-haired head again, wiping the fading pink traces from his hand onto the pants of his school uniform with a sense of defeated abandonment.

"Yes. I see you a few times during the day. Mostly during classes and such. In choir practice, too."

At the mention of choir practice two fine, ginger-red brows lifted above those clear blue eyes.

"You should have mentioned you were in the choir earlier. I'dve been able to narrow it down that way. What's your place?"

The other boy sniffed again as though to hold the rush of more blood back and finished with a slight muffle to his voice.

"Alto. Third place from the right."

"Third from the right," Jack mumbled softly under his breath, lifting his face towards the bright blue sky and squinting against the dull glare of the sun, "Third from the right…"

While his companion puzzled over the name of the alto who stood third from the right, the boy in question fussed quietly over the blood gently streaming from his nose, subsiding but still present.

It was frustrating, he decided silently, that the first time another human being – no, the first time another boy his own _age_ paid any real attention to him, he was caught uncomfortably cross-legged and suffering from another untimely bleed.

And here he had thought that no one would ever find him at this secluded little spot…

"Hall, isn't it?" came Jack's voice after a few moments of silent contemplation and squinting up against the sun, " 'Something' Hall… Can't quite remember what that name was now – "

The dark-haired boy sighed a little though the sound was lost upon the redhead, who had become used to hearing the other breathe through his mouth for the past few minutes.

"It's Simon," he finished helpfully for him, reminding himself to be grateful that such a famous and well-known choirboy had at least remembered his surname, "Simon Hall."

Jack snapped two fingers together as the other boy's words reached him, grinning somewhat crookedly at him. "Ah, that was it. Simon Hall. They say if you only sang a little louder they'd move you down closer to the rest of us."

The other boy, now identified as Simon, became flustered yet again beneath the crisp white of the tissue clutched within his hand.

"I'm not sure if I'd like to be moved down from the fourth row. If I were to faint in front of everyone they couldn't whisk me off without letting the entire audience know. It would ruin the performance for sure."

"That was you in Addis, then?" Jack's voice held a hint of restrained amusement, and for an instant the flush hidden partially by the tissue held to Simon's nose deepened.

"I didn't mean to throw a faint then. It's difficult to control sometimes."

Jack was still smiling that half-amused smile even after the hasty explanation, but soon even that bit of memory seemed to dull and lose interest in his eyes.

Weaving the blades of almost elastic grass through his fingers, Jack brought himself forward a little and peered at the blood sodden tissue still gripped tightly against Simon's nose.

"I thought you said it would only take a little while."

Simon blinked dark, shimmering eyes at him over the white edge of the handkerchief and fought back the specks of red and black threatening to dance before his vision; if he were to throw a faint now he would never be able to forgive himself.

"It's almost done passing now. I can't always really predict how long it will be."

Jack smiled and settled back against the grass, watching with a slowly fading interest as the sparks of light cast by the afternoon sun threaded through the still, silken water of the creek.

"When did you find this place?" It was a casually asked question, obviously more for the sake of keeping conversation alive than because an answer was truthfully wanted.

Simon sniffed carefully, hoping against hope that the awful, thick rush wouldn't flare up again from the cautious movement. To his utmost relief he could feel only the drying blood at the edges of his nose and breathed out softly in gratitude.

Peering over at him again curiously, Jack blinked clear blue eyes at the more relaxed expression on the other's face and knew the answer at once. "Finally passed?"

The dark-haired boy nodded a little, a bit self-conscious as he removed the sodden handkerchief from his nose and folded it into a single square across his lap.

Grimacing at the pinkish-red stains on his hands he pushed the handkerchief aside and crouched at the water's edge, submerging his soiled hands into the sunlit water and rinsing them clean.

He was aware of the other boy's curious stare against his back and felt his cheeks flare again with a color not unlike that which had stained his hands just moments before.

Sighing, Simon tilted his head forward again and brought little pools of water up within his cupped fingers, carefully working away the stains and dried blood with the ease of almost a lifetime of practice.

After a minute or so of rinsing away the dried stains from his face Simon shook the droplets of water from his hair and leaned out a little further to inspect his reflection in the water's surface.

The boy staring back at him was pallid and uncertainty was evident in his eyes, but the last traces of blood had gone and he deemed himself more presentable at the very least.

Moving back away from the creek's edge Simon settled back onto the short spades of grass and brought his knees up so that he could drape his arms across them.

By this time Jack had fallen into an almost thoughtful silence, his lips pressed together in an almost frown, fingers tugging at the blades of grass absently. Simon could almost fancy just by watching him quietly that there were bright shadows dancing behind the clear blue of his eyes and the sight rendered him speechless even when he had nothing to say in the first place.

After a moment, though, the older boy broke the silence in a voice so casual that Simon almost regretted thinking there was anything haunting him. "You never answered my question, you know."

"Your question?" The dark-haired boy frowned a little in thought, brows crinkling together as he tried to retrace the events of the last few minutes in his mind.

"I asked you a while back when it was you found this place. I used to think I was the only one who ever came here. Gave me quite a scare when I saw you sitting here all alone."

There was an apology ready to roll off of Simon's tongue again, but Jack caught the expression of embarrassed sheepishness in the other boy's eyes and shook his head. "I only want to know when. I'm not going to send you off or anything."

Simon blinked and lowered his head a little in thought, dark hair spilling freely into his face and shadowing one side completely. "It's been… a month, perhaps? I was exploring a little one day and just stumbled here accidentally. I thought it to be a nice little place, quiet and lonely. There's always sunlight here, you know, and sometimes the fish will swim up from the creek there and glow like little candles…"

Realizing with a start that he'd gone on for quite a few seconds now Simon quickly snapped his mouth shut, feeling the heat return to his face awkwardly.

Beside him Jack was seemingly silent, and a cautious sideways glance revealed that the redheaded boy had turned over onto his stomach and was toying with the grass with one hand. His other elbow was propped up and he was cradling his chin in his hand, staring off across the creek with an interested expression on his face.

"I never saw it that way," he replied at last, momentarily abandoning the blades of grass to tuck a wayward lock of bright ginger hair behind one freckled ear, "I always just came here 'cos it was secret, and safe. Nobody could follow me here because nobody would know where I was off to. Nobody would care to know either."

Simon silently observed the small lines of thoughtfulness fade away from the chapter chorister's expression, watching as the transformation moved down his face and to his mouth, where another amused smile was already blossoming.

"But enough of that, then. I don't suppose you fancy a quick swim? The sun's almost done and set, and the water's warmest right before nightfall."

At the invitation Simon's gaze darted away a little, that same telltale heating of his face taking place as he replied somewhat self-consciously. "I think I'll just watch from here. My parents will be expecting me home soon, anyway, and I'd look half a mess after if I went in now."

"Suit yourself." The reply was faintly muffled as Jack was busy lifting his shirt off over his head, and Simon made sure to politely look the other way. Soon the sound of soft splashing alerted him to the fact that the water would at least sheath the other boy now.

Bringing his legs up and folding them before him, Simon watched in wonder as the sunlit water burst into a thousand shimmering fragments at the contact with each of Jack's timed strokes.

The other boy was utterly graceful as he moved beneath the sparkling water, all sinewy limbs and brightly flashing color, and for just an instant Simon fancied that the fading rays of sunlight had found a permanent dwelling on his skin and in his hair.

Then a drenched, ginger-coloured head emerged from beneath the water's surface and pale blue eyes were taking in his expression for a moment before that same amused smile blossomed across a water-touched mouth.

"You sure you don't want to come in for a bit? This is the warmest it's been all week…"

Simon scooted closer to the edge of the water and shook his head with a sheepish smile, fingers dancing lightly across what shallow water his outstretched hand could reach.

"The fish will be here soon," he replied instead and smiled again at the quizzically interested expression on his companion's face, "They come at sundown, I mean. I fancy they enjoy the warm water as much as you do."

Jack was underwater again by then and probably hadn't heard his sentence out to the end, but it gave Simon a feeling of simple pride to know that at least he'd heard most of what he had to say.

When was the last time anyone had cared about what Simon had to say, aside from his mother, who was only constantly fussing over him, and his father, who was determined to keep his only son strong and steady enough to face the world?

He decided then that no one really ever listened to anything he had to say, and that even Jack was probably not interested. They had both just so happened to be at the same place at the same time, and that familiar necessity to find companionship in the first available person had taken over.

Nothing less, nothing more, but it was enough for Simon, who had taken up watching Jack's sinewy figure gliding beneath the crystal brightness of the water again.

It seemed to him then that maybe there _was_ no boy drifting beneath the darkening surface of the water. Perhaps the dull shimmer of a few appearing stars and of the crescent moon had formed a trick of his eyes. Perhaps the figure sliding flawlessly beneath the liquid gleam had simply materialized from shadow and light.

Then there came the shattering of the water just a few feet away, a soft splash of skin and shadow against liquid and light, and Simon fancied that a thousand broken fragments of radiance now framed the other boy's wet, glistening body. Everything seemed to be alight at the moment.

It was no surprise, then, when the first few clusters of glowing fish appeared to materialize from seemingly nowhere. They were of indistinguishable colour at first, all glimmering whites and pale yellows, yet as the moonlight rose high into the night sky the colours blurred and brightened.

There was life in the creek at once, life and colour, all shades of sparkling crimson, incandescent amethyst, shimmering golden emerald. Jack was above the water at once, an expression of absolute wonder gracing his proud boyish features as he took in that which was surrounding him.

"I told you," Simon called softly to him across a space of shimmering liquid, "I told you they would come once the sun set. They love it here once the sun goes down."

At once he realized that Jack was no longer breathlessly taking in the beauty that surrounded him in every which direction. Instead the redheaded boy was staring straight at him across the glimmering distance, pale blue eyes alive with the reflection of a thousand sparkling colors.

"Simon," he called back to him, his voice floating along the wings of a light breeze and reaching the other boy as a mere sigh. Instead of answering Simon lifted his own eyes to meet his, grateful for the darkness which considerably hid the soft heating of his face.

Certain that the dark-haired boy had heard his call and had his attention, Jack grinned in wonder and shook his head, sending not water but sparks of radiant light falling from his hair as far as Simon was concerned.

"It's never been this way," the older boy continued as though this new world of colour and light was a secret shared only between them, "Never before."

And for a moment Simon thought he understood what Jack Merridew meant, but even to his keen senses it seemed that he must have comprehended incorrectly. Because he was a normal boy, not radiant and alive in the way Jack was, because he had an aura of shy uncertainty about him, not of brimming power as Jack did, because he was dark-haired and had eyes the color of ink, not brightly flaring locks and eyes the colour of a pale spring morning as Jack did.

Because the creek must certainly be brimming with life and iridescence because Jack was there, not because he himself was.

Still, the look in the other boy's pale eyes shook his resolve and made him wonder, just for an instant, if the world wasn't suddenly alive because they were both there, together.

And maybe, just maybe, that thought made a bit of sense. Just maybe.

~To Part Two~


End file.
